


The One Where Ifrit Realizes He's in Love

by catacombsaint



Category: Ghost (Swedish Band)
Genre: Awkwardness, Falling In Love, First Time, Frottage, HITTING ALL THE GOOD SHIT IN THIS FIC HOOTIE HOO, Language Barrier, M/M, Tails, Trans Male Character, Vaginal, Vaginal Fingering, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 07:36:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11271006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catacombsaint/pseuds/catacombsaint
Summary: Hey so I feel really strongly about new Fire and new Water so I typed a 5k word fic about the first time they do it.





	The One Where Ifrit Realizes He's in Love

**Author's Note:**

> there's a lot of character context and backstory and headcanons here that probably won't make any sense to anyone outside of the discord group ayyy but enjoy this fic about these two idiots in love anyway. this is replacing the old dewfrit fic that i had up here, because the way i think about their characters has changed drastically since i wrote it.
> 
> gholish is a language created by AceSynner here on ao3, who you should go check out because he's a genius and made up an entire ghoul conlang with a written alphabet and everything???

Dewdrop had something to show Ifrit. That's what he told him, anyway, in his typical cryptic fashion, before he'd taken the fire ghoul by the hand and led him deep into the bowels of Castle Lincopia. Ifrit didn't even know the castle had this many twists and turns and musty, badly-lit hallways. The further the little water ghoul took him, the more questions Ifrit had, but the only responses he was getting were grunts, or Dew telling him—in his disjointed English—that he was going to like it.

 

Finally, after what seemed like an hour but was probably closer to a few minutes, the two came to the end of a hall that was completely unlit, covered in cobwebs, and looked like nobody had set foot in it for centuries. Today’s weather was even cloudier and gloomier than usual, grayish light trickling in through a half-smashed stained glass window and offering minimal visibility.

 

“This is it,” Dew said with a proud grin, opening an antiquated wooden door to reveal an ominously dark room.

 

Ifrit hesitated. He looked at Dew, grinning and gesturing for him to enter, then again stared into the uninviting darkness of the entryway before him. He wasn’t sure about this. The two ghouls had been dating...or...something like that...for almost two months, now, but Ifrit still didn’t know if he trusted the water ghoul not to get him killed. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Dew—it was his _judgement_ that he doubted. Dewdrop could be summed up very adequately in the word “reckless”.

 

The fire ghoul didn’t want to be rude, though. Regardless, there wasn’t much time left to deliberate, as Dew was already walking into the darkness. Ifrit rushed in after him. Inside the space, his eyes adjusted to the low light, and he could make out that it was a round tower of some kind, just as dilapidated as the hall. A draft from overhead made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The remains of a staircase sat crumbled before them, too destroyed to be used safely anymore. He had a terrible feeling that Dew was about to—yeah, he was right. Every muscle in his body tensed at the sight of him leaving his shoes behind and confidently scaling the collapsed rubble and wood like some kind of animal.

 

“You have to climb,” Dew said, pausing his ascent to look down at Ifrit. “The stairs are broken.”

 

“I can see that, mate,” the fire ghoul sighed. He approached what used to be the first step and placed his foot on it, pushing down a few times to test if it could support him. He wasn’t as tiny and nimble as the bassist. “Are you sure about this?”

 

“You are a ghoul, _sintos_. You can climb.”

 

Before Ifrit could argue, the other ghoul had already turned his back, and with a flick of his tail continued his climb. Again Ifrit followed, his claws scrabbling for purchase in the dusty rubble. Dew gave him another glance before disappearing out of sight, scurrying quickly up the remainder of the spiralled staircase-turned-rock wall. A long struggle of heaving, panting, sweating and slipping later, Ifrit at last hoisted himself up to meet Dewdrop, finding him standing expectantly in a room at the top of the tower.

 

This space was just as structurally unsound as the staircase leading up to it. It was damp, smelling of mold, and if Ifrit had to guess he’d say it was, at one point, used as a prison tower by whoever owned this castle hundreds of years ago before the Church of Lincopia set up shop there. Opposite from where he was currently standing, the rounded stone wall had partially crumbled away, leaving a gaping hole overlooking the castle grounds outside and letting in the draft that he’d previously felt. Scattered around the floor were various items: propped up against the wall was a bass, different from the Church-provided instrument that Dew used on tour. It looked old, worn and covered in claw marks. There was a nest of ratty-looking, mismatched pillows around it that the water ghoul apparently used in lieu of chairs, with an equally as hole-filled and frayed blanket laid in a crumpled heap over them. Nearby there were some snacks, half-eaten bags of chips and cookies and some canned things that looked like they’d been stolen from the Church kitchens. In another corner there were notebooks, pencils, pots of ink, some thick leatherbound books with Gholish script that Ifrit couldn’t read on the spines. An ornate wooden chest, looking out of place in the grungy room, sat close to these. Around it were little vials and pots of potions, some empty and used. They had an assortment of labels, but most of them were marked with the symbol for Mars followed by several exclamation points.

 

“This is my room,” Dew said proudly. He went to the hole in the wall, gathering some of his pillows on the way, and plopped them down on the floor, taking a seat dangerously close to the edge. He placed one beside his own spot and gave it a pat. Ifrit tentatively approached as Dew beckoned for the guitarist to join him, afraid he would slip off, or that the floor would crumble away and send them both to an untimely death.

 

“Y-your room?” his voice was shaky and he tried not to look down. “You don’t have a ghoulhouse?” It occurred to him then that he’d never even seen the bassist inside one of the dormitory houses, but he’d never put any thought into that. He thought all ghouls were assigned a room.

 

“I never got one. Imperator does not know I’m up here.”

 

“Wouldn’t you rather have a proper room? With, like...a bed? And all the walls?” How could Imperator have completely forgotten to assign Dewdrop a room?

 

“I like it here,” Dew said, and he swung his legs out over the crumbled edge. Ifrit gasped and grabbed his narrow shoulders, pulling him back, and the little ghoul let him, falling back to lean against his body. He laughed at the fire ghoul’s concern for his safety, then continued. “No one has ever seen it before you. Other ghouls don’t like me a lot anyway.”

 

“What?” Ifrit’s brows furrowed. He sounded positively indignant at the idea. “What do you mean they don’t like you?”

 

Dew shrugged. He also pressed himself further into Ifrit’s shape, enjoying the warmth that naturally radiated from a fire ghoul’s body. “There are a lot of things that are, ah…” he paused to think of the English equivalent to what he was trying to say. “Not right. About me.”

 

“Well, I like you,” Ifrit blurted out. He felt his cheeks redden instantly, although he wasn’t really sure why saying that embarrassed him, considering the two of them had been something-like-dating for so long. There was a long silence, then, and Dew’s tail reached out to catch a few of the raindrops that had just begun to fall. Both ghouls stared out at the castle grounds, watching their brothers and sisters that had been working outside cover themselves and hurry in from the rain.

 

“I like you, too, _sintos_ ,” the bassist suddenly responded. Then he turned to face Ifrit and climbed to straddle him, which didn’t help Ifrit’s blushing situation. He pressed his lips to his in one of his typically unceremonious kisses, and the fire ghoul’s heart thumped at the sensation of Dew’s mustache against his face.

 

Dewdrop wanted more. Maybe it was the storm making it draftier in his tower than usual, but he was rapidly becoming aware of how cold it was in the room, and Ifrit’s warm body was a perfect counter to the chill. He wanted more of that warmth.

The water ghoul went for another kiss, this time forcing his forked tongue into Ifrit's mouth, getting a muffled noise of surprise from the guitarist. He brought a hand up to cup the back of Dew's head, gently tangling his claws in the long mess of blond hair. The little ghoul was an alarmingly good kisser for someone who had no idea what he was doing. He braced his hands around Ifrit's horns and gave him no time to breathe before locking lips again, this kiss even deeper than the last. Ifrit's grucifix jingled when Dew trailed his hands down the guitarist's chest, pulling on the necklace, and then his hands kept going, stopping to fiddle with the fascia around Ifrit's waist before sliding under the skirt of his cassock. The fire ghoul squeaked and puffed a cloud of smoke directly into Dew's mouth when the bassist's fingers gave him a squeeze through his pants. Dew recoiled, coughing and spitting out what smoke he hadn't inhaled.

 

“Shit! S-sorry, mate, I—” Ifrit hiccuped out the last of the smoke in his own lungs, patting Dew on the back to ease his coughing. “I’m sorry, I just...you just…my...” He gestured wildly to himself, to Dew, to his crotch, babbling like an idiot until Dew's coughing fit ceased and he established eye contact again, immediately shutting him up.

 

"It's okay," Dew said, still straddling him but keeping his hands to himself. He looked just a little bit dejected. "Do you...not want to?"

 

Oh, he wanted to, alright. But Ifrit stopped himself from blurting _that_ out. It would be a blatant lie to tell Dewdrop he hadn't been fantasizing about him for the past two months. The water ghoul was something of a never-nude, and so this was why the guitarist hadn't yet tried to take their relationship to the metaphorical next level; Ifrit had never even seen him out of his cassock. He'd thought many times about what the skinny ghoul might look like without it. Sometimes at night. In his bed. But he wasn't about to tell him that.  

 

Plus, he worried that, in a way, having sex with him would be like taking advantage of him. Ifrit hadn’t forgotten how their first kiss had gone—the first time Dew had ever kissed _anyone_ . Other ghouls had explained to Ifrit that Dewdrop was what the Church called a “fullblooded” ghoul, one born from two ghoul parents. There was a Gholish word for it that he couldn’t remember. He wasn’t totally sure what that meant, or why everyone seemed to look down on him for something that he had no control over, but he did understand that it was the reason why Dew acted so...odd. Sometimes he acted like he wasn’t human. Well, he _wasn’t_ human, and neither was Ifrit, anymore, but sometimes Dew was more like an animal. He didn’t always seem to comprehend things that normal people(or ghouls, whatever)did. It concerned Ifrit that he might just be doing this because he thought it was normal.

 

A roll of thunder broke him out of his thoughts. He hesitated before he spoke, taking Dew’s hands in his. “I want to, but I don’t, um…” Was he really about to explain sex ed to this ghoul? “We don’t have to, uh, touch our uh...you don’t have to—”

 

“I know what sex is, _sintos_ ,” Dew cut him off flatly. Oh. Well, there went Ifrit’s little fantasy of his bandmate as a blushing virgin. “I’ve just never done it with someone before.” _Oh_. Fantasy reignited. More smoke puffed out from the guitarist’s nostrils, his heart pounding so hard he could hear the rush of blood in his ears.

 

Dew wasn’t in the mood to be patient any more today. He again pawed at Ifrit through his pants, grinning with satisfaction at getting the fire ghoul’s breath to hitch with such a small touch. Being the more experienced partner, Ifrit probably should’ve taken the lead, but he was too busy sweating, his mind a flurry of o _h, man, oh, jeez, this is happening_. Dew seemed fixated on the quickly-stiffening shape of the other ghoul’s cock under the fabric. He squeezed it, traced his fingers over it, palmed at it, and Ifrit hadn’t felt so awkwardly sexually frustrated since secondary school. When Dew took his hand away, Ifrit held in a whine, his hips rolling like they were trying to follow. He leaned back on his hands, watching in a kind of daze while Dew shifted gears to unbutton his own fascia, tossing it aside, then his cassock, at which he hesitated and looked the fire ghoul in the eyes. His brow became stern while he snapped the buttons apart. He was watching Ifrit’s reaction, because he didn’t like what was under that cassock and he didn’t know if Ifrit was going to like it, either.

 

“Sorry it’s wrong,” he said hastily, taking Ifrit’s widening eyes as a bad sign. He adjusted his grucifix, which had swung behind his neck when he removed his cassock, bringing the pendant back around to the front and letting it hang down between the small breasts on his chest.

 

“It’s not wrong, love,” Ifrit smiled gently. The purpose of those Mars-marked vials of potion sitting in the corner suddenly became apparent. Ifrit had slept with trans friends before, long before he joined the Church. This wasn’t a new thing to him. Dew was just the last person he’d expect to be, and he’d never noticed that he didn’t even bind. He was so thin, and his cassock was so loose on him, that paired with his usual slouching posture the shape of his chest was indeterminable.

 

Honestly, though, the way the extra breast tissue made his nipples perk was kind of adorable. Why was this reedy little gremlin of a ghoul so adorable?

 

“That’s good,” Dew responded plainly. Then he went to work freeing Ifrit of his cassock, and when he did he looked completely in awe at the sight of him. He wasn’t prepared for how _muscular_ the fire ghoul was. Like he was in a trance, he ran his cold fingers over pectorals, poking and squeezing them while Ifrit blushed. It satisfied him to see that the guitarist’s chest was bigger and rounder than his was. He watched Ifrit bite his lip as he trailed his hand to a nipple, giving it an experimental pinch and smirking at the gasp it elicited.

 

Tired of that, he slinked off of Ifrit's lap, laying on his stomach in front of him. His hair draped like a shawl around his shoulders and he pushed it behind a pointed ear on one side to better see what he was doing. Prodding again at the bulge in Ifrit's pants, he asked, "Can I take it out?"  
  
_Please do_ , Ifrit's brain screamed. But he just nodded. Dew's tail curled and coiled in the air and he resembled a cat inspecting a mouse as he undid the button of the pants, and the zipper, and if his expression was awe when he got Ifrit out of his shirt, then the water ghoul practically had stars in his eyes at the guitarist's cock finally revealed, much bigger and more impressive than he'd been expecting it to be. Ifrit didn't think his face could feel any hotter than it already did, but then Dew’s hand was around him and his own tail spasmed and thudded loudly against the wooden floor behind him. Ifrit’s looks had always made him popular. He’d had more casual flings than he could remember at the moment. But the unashamed way that Dew was touching and exploring his body was starting to make _him_ feel like the blushing virgin in this situation. If he thought about it, he kind of was, since Dew had a lifetime of being a ghoul on him and Ifrit had only been initiated last year, _and_ he tragically hadn’t gotten laid once since then. Dewdrop might not have been experienced, but he probably understood Ifrit’s anatomy better than he did, like how he seemed to know that running his thumbs over the soft scale-like ridges on the underside of his dick—which he had once been utterly horrified to discover were a natural part of the transformation from human to ghoul—would feel really fucking good.

 

Dew muttered thoughtful things in Gholish to himself while he toyed with the length in his grip. It was nearly as big around as his wrist, and he wondered how it was all going to fit inside of him, but the thought was exciting. He turned his gaze up to meet Ifrit's and the guitarist swallowed dryly at the eye contact.

 

"It's..." Dew paused, trying to think of the word. He made a vague gesture of size with his palms. " _Thyk._ "

 

"Thick?"

 

"Big."

 

"Oh...um..." Ifrit ran a hand nervously through his curls. "Y-yeah, it's...I guess it is." He laughed awkwardly.

 

"More big than anything I've put in me."

 

The bassist smirked coyly up at him, and Ifrit knew he felt the way he twitched in his hand, but fortunately Dew didn't know he was thinking about what other things he might have "put in him".

 

The twitch must have egged the little ghoul on. Another wave of thunder rolled in while Dew stretched, lifting his backside into the air and reaching back to the button on the back of his pants that secured the hole cut for a tail. He wiggled out of them and threw them in almost the same direction as his cassock, and Ifrit felt like he might have a heart attack. Dew clambered on top of him, pushing him flat onto the floor so that he sat over him while the fire ghoul laid on his back. He was...fuck, he was so thin, he looked almost like Ifrit would hurt him if he touched him, with ribs visible under skin that had never seen the sun, but the sinewy muscles in his arms and thighs betrayed how alarmingly strong the water ghoul actually was.

 

He maneuvered to pull Ifrit’s pants down further, but didn’t bother with removing them entirely. He let his weight sink down to press his clit to Ifrit's cock, watching intensely at the way the soft flesh between their legs molded together. The ghoul beneath him hissed, the sudden pressure and heat on him making him brace his hands on Dew's angular hipbones. Dew started to move, stiffly rocking, testing this new sensation. The ridges on the underside of the ghoul beneath him's dick were at once stiff and soft, a texture that quickly had Dew's movements becoming looser, his mouth falling open and wetness slicking up and down the fire ghoul's length with each grind. Through heavy-lidded eyes, he looked down at Ifrit, who whispered an English swear he vaguely understood. That look...the pinpricks of his pupils blown out and darkening his ice-blue eyes, the pinkish flush on his pale skin, the way his black tongue darted out to moisten his lips. It took a lot of self-control not to dig his claws into those hips.

 

The dumbstruck expression staring up at him gave the water ghoul more confidence. He placed his hands on Ifrit’s chest, savoring the warmth of the skin that radiated up into his palms. A soft sound left him and he leaned down to barely brush his lips to Ifrit’s, unsure if it was alright to kiss someone while you were having sex with them. Apparently it was, because Ifrit cupped his hand around the back of his head and pulled him in, moaning back into his mouth. Dew was aching for him, now, he wanted Ifrit to be _inside_ of him, but he also wasn’t ready to separate from the heat of the guitarist’s body, not even for a moment to switch positions. Rainwater was cascading down from the top of the tower, trickling over the broken stone and inside through the opening in the wall and spraying his back, leaving him chilled and craving Ifrit's hot skin. He shivered under his touch, the fire ghoul's palm now sliding down his back, feeling the knobby vertebrae under his skin to rest his fingers between the tiny spikes at the base of his spine where his tail began.

 

“Ifrit,” he suddenly spoke, his voice thick and coming out quieter than he’d planned, “ _Eg bryt to du icek eg nun._ ” He knew Ifrit didn’t understand him, but that didn’t matter; he slid off of him and onto the floor, laying back while Ifrit sat up to watch him. Trying to imitate what he’d seen in the magazines that some of his fellow ghouls kept under their beds, he spread his legs and traced his fingers around the lips of his pussy and nibbled his lip, hoping the way he pushed his fingers in and displayed himself would get his point across. It seemed to work, because Ifrit crawled over to him like a beckoned dog, wide-eyed and transfixed on what his fingers were doing.

 

Before anything else, Ifrit grabbed a couple of the pillows they’d been sitting on and gently lifted Dew’s hips from the floor to put them underneath him, then grabbed another one and placed it under his head. He was practically on autopilot now—any awkwardness he felt before was gone. He couldn’t tell anymore if that was the sound of the rain or his own rushing blood he was hearing. Still, his hands trembled, although now it was more with excitement than nerves, as he scooted in close to Dew and lined himself up with his opening. After a moment of searing eye contact, he pushed into him and heard Dewdrop make a sound he never would’ve expected him to make, a tight-lipped and high-pitched moan that sent lightning through his body. He sank fully into him and the little ghoul’s gangly legs were locked like a vice around his waist. Now they were back to Dew being the blushing virgin. Literally. The ghoul’s unpreparedness for Ifrit’s size was clear from the pinkness of his cheeks and his hitching breath.

 

“Are you alright?” Ifrit asked hurriedly, remembering to breathe, “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

 

Dew shook his head, but his soft whimpering and furrowed brows told a different story. _Zytan_ , he didn’t look nearly as big as he _felt_. It didn’t exactly hurt, and he didn’t want Ifrit to stop. But it was...overwhelming. The water ghoul tried to be very still, because he felt like every movement would wrench a yelp from him. When Ifrit started to move that proved to be true—the fire ghoul gave the subtlest roll of his pelvis and Dew squeaked and latched his claws onto Ifrit’s forearms. Gaining sudden puncture wounds in his skin made him hiss through his teeth, but Ifrit chuckled at the way Dew now clung to him. He moved again and groaned, rhythmically rolling his hips, Dew's heat and tightness making his toes curl. He squeezed his eyes shut to fight off the instinct to fuck the water ghoul into the floorboards. Something told him that Dew could handle that, but he couldn't get over how vulnerable he looked and felt beneath him. When he reopened his eyes, the water ghoul was staring up at him, chest heaving and hair fanned out around his head, and the wanton, needy look on his face sent a rush of butterflies through his stomach. He was sure that was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Letting his arms collapse, he curled himself over Dew's body and kissed him as he set a faster pace, not enough to hurt, but enough that Dew came undone, something about the way Ifrit's cock was hitting a certain spot inside him making his eyes roll and a string of Gholish curses fall from his lips, detaching from the kiss to press his forehead to the other ghoul's.

 

" _Sodes, sintos_ ," he whispered, not sure exactly what he was begging for, and he didn't know if it was normal to say things like this to the person fucking you, but he couldn't stop himself and started rambling, wrapping his arms around Ifrit's neck. " _Toen kuka hynlat eg, sodes, as vjen it gotha, as’th—_ " The thumb now rubbing circles on his clit cut him off mid-sentence. Ifrit had snaked his hand between their bodies to touch him. He gasped and bucked his hips, desperate for more of whatever _that_ sensation was. Nobody ever told the water ghoul that sex was going to feel this good.

 

"G-God, Dew, I'm..." Ifrit knew he wasn't going to last much longer, especially not with the way Dew was grinding back against him. "Hold on," he said, slipping his arms under the bassist's back. Lifting him was easy. He hoisted him up with him as he sat up, holding him so closely that their bodies never separated. At this angle his cock reached even deeper into Dew, who gasped, bracing trembling hands on Ifrit's horns. He bounced to meet the fire ghoul's thrusts, feeling like he might be torn apart, but he could live with that. He could live with Ifrit inside of him forever, probably.

 

Ifrit worried he might crush the small ghoul in his arms, but he wanted him close. He buried his face in the crook of his neck and took him in. The way he smelled, like incense and sweat, the way he tasted when Ifrit left sloppy kisses on his collarbone, his muscles tense and shifting under pale skin and how he clenched around his cock, even the sound of his grucifix jingling with his movements and the little breaths drew in, he wanted all of it. Ifrit was coming to an alarming realization that he might be in love with the Church's weirdest ghoul.

 

He was also realizing that he was going to cum soon. Very soon. Like, now. But he wasn't about to get Dew pregnant, so, to the little ghoul's chagrin, he lifted him off of his dick.

 

" _Tagyn klus!_ " Dew whined. Before Ifrit could explain, the water ghoul wrapped his fingers around him, and that small stimulation was enough to send the fire ghoul over the edge. His orgasm caught Dewdrop off-guard. He jerked his hand away, Ifrit grunting in frustration at the loss of contact but still shaking with the force of his orgasm and spilling onto Dew’s stomach.

 

“ _Venti_ ,” Dew apologized.

 

“No worries, love,” Ifrit said, smiling and guiding him to turn around so that he sat with his back to the fire ghoul’s chest. Dew let him, chirping curiously at his intentions. The way Ifrit stroked his tail while moving it out of the way made him shiver, as did the temperature of his skin against his back. The guitarist kissed his hair softly and trailed his hand down to Dew’s clit, hard and aching for release. Dew sighed contentedly, spreading his legs as far as he could to give Ifrit access to his body. Both ghouls lost track of how long they sat like that, Ifrit pleasuring him and making the little ghoul squirm in his lap.

 

Eventually, Dew's squirming became more erratic and his swearing started up again. Ifrit could tell he was close, so he matched his intensity, curling fingers inside of him and using his own wetness to slick him up, pulling back the hood of his clit to rub small, fast circles around it. Dew had touched himself before, many, many times, but he'd never touched himself like _that_.

 

" _Zym thar to taens fyk—fan!_ " His thighs trembled as his own orgasm built inside of him. Ifrit brought his free hand to his chest, tugging gently on one of his nipples, and Dew again latched his claws into the other ghoul's forearm. " _Cys...m-mam icekar—!!_ " If he wasn't so worn out from fucking him, Ifrit would've done it again just to hear him make more of these sounds. Dew was normally so stoic and feral that seeing him in this state felt like a special privilege. He was speaking a language that only ghouls could understand, lashing his tail around and leaving scratches in the floorboards with his clawed feet, but right now, keening and moaning and twitching in Ifrit’s lap as his orgasm tore through him, he seemed incredibly human.

 

Ifrit eased him through it, dragging the tips of his claws over Dew’s thigh when he finally took his hand away. The water ghoul heaved to catch his breath and sat glassy-eyed, like dead weight in his lap. After a few minutes of silence, watching the rain and letting their pulses steady, Dew slithered off of him and reached for the ratty blanket, using it to wipe Ifrit’s mess off of his stomach. Then he made a little nest on the ledge where they’d been sitting before things escalated. He stretched out on his stomach, perfectly content with laying there naked in the crumbled stone arch. The residual body heat hadn’t quite faded yet. He knew that when Ifrit left, he’d be cold again, but at least he had a blanket.

 

Ifrit cringed at the sight of him laying on it. The thing was dirty enough before he wiped his cum on it. Standing to re-dress himself and look somewhat presentable again, he had an idea. He didn't know if Dew was going to agree to it, but he couldn't leave him up in this tower, not in this weather. It was a miracle the ghoul hadn't died of pneumonia yet, with how often it rained here.

 

"Dew?" he asked tentatively.

 

Dew clicked and rolled over onto his back to look at him, a pleased smile on his face. Ifrit nearly forgot what he was about to ask; he'd just had his dick inside of him and somehow those eyes still gave him jitters.

 

"Hm?" Dew hummed.

 

"Do you...um..." the fire ghoul nervously ran a hand through his hair. "Well, it's going to be a bit cold, with the rain and all. So...would you rather come sleep in my room?"

 

The bassist abruptly sat up. Sleep? In his room? He supposed he could. The dormitory houses typically had carpeted floors, which probably would make a more comfortable sleeping surface than damp wooden planks. He nodded.

 

"Okay," he agreed. He stood and dressed himself, not bothering to button his cassock completely and throwing his fascia over his shoulder. Ifrit stopped him from bringing the blanket with him. He explained, while they descended the ruined staircase—much easier for Ifrit to slide down than it was to climb—that his bed had enough blanket for both of them.

 


End file.
